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We're beautiful abominations. We're not quite right, we're far from perfect. But aren't we a gorgeous tragedy? Amazing how such a terrible world can somehow sculpt such beautiful souls. Surrounded by ugly hate, love somehow still blossoms. We may be made up of broken pieces and scarred bruises but, oh, we're all one of a kind. Our demons and angels, they're one and the same; Yea, they're who we are inside. We're a little bit of both so let's dance with our demons while our angels play the horns. Let's relish in every moment of insanity, embrace every eccentric piece of ourselves, and laugh ourselves to sleep. Yes, thank God, we'll never be normal. We are wild things.
(September 7th, 2014)
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She stood on the roof
And peered out at the stars
Wondering, if she jumped,
If she’d make it back to Mars.
Is she a woman
Or maybe something else?
She never quite belonged
Or understood herself.
She closed her eyes and imagined
She’s from some other place,
An anomaly sent
From the other side of space.
She felt the stardust brush
Her fingers as she soared;
He saw her flying through the sky
And his faith was restored.
A feather from her wings
He hoped to steal
To prove to the world
That angels are real.

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Jordyn Mart

February 2017

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